Over the Sea to Skye

I’ve just about gotten into watching ‘Outlander’ on Amazon Prime.

It don’t mind it, it’s good escapism and the male lead is lush, so all good (if you forgive my tasteless objectification of a male). It follows the tale of a woman from 1945 who is transported back, somehow, two hundred years into the past. She was on her honeymoon, post WWII, in Scotland after serving during the war as a nurse.

She happens upon some standing stones and after touching one, is thrown back in time. She is ‘rescued’ by a nearby clan, who put her to work as a Healer for the folk in the Castle in which they live and she is now imprisoned. It’s not bad, if a bit too Americanised in places. I’m not sure Americans believe that Scottish people of any era, are capable of getting through an entire day of their lives without a bagpiper blaring away constantly.Unless of course you are a bagpiper.

The theme song to it is based on a well known Scottish folk song, albeit, with the lyrics tweaked a tad.

I find it very haunting and poignant: It reminds me of my Mum.

The lyrics offer the idea for me, that she has herself sailed off to some beautiful, bucolic heaven, across the sea. The Elizabethans believed that life was a sea voyage, guided and fated by the stars (if you see references to water, sailing, boats or stars in Shakespeare, he’s referring the fate and its inevitability, in case you ever wondered, like when Romeo declares “I defy you stars”). We were simply passengers to the vicissitudes of fate and simply had to hold on, whatever storm we faced.

The idea of sailing away to a beautiful place which those few lines say, make me think of that archaic ideal. Her journey has ended and I can only hope she is somewhere as lovely as Skye.

She loved to visit Scotland and Wales, the Celtic ties in her fastened tight to her heart. Her father was born in Dublin and she had visited Ireland in her lifetime and met relatives still there.

I like to think that my mother, a bonny lass, has sailed away, that all that was her has gone now.

I told her ashes, when I last saw them, that we are all made of stars and now, in death, we return to the stars from which we came. I like the idea of her in this ethereal, beautiful place, beyond mortal grasp and imagination. Somewhere that stirs the soul, fills the heart and does not give you time to feel anything but peace.


Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

Say, could that lass be I?

Merry of soul she sailed on a dais

Over the sea to Skye

Billow and breeze, islands and seas

Mountains of rain and sun

All that was good, all that was fair

All that was me is gone

Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

Say, could that lass be I?

Merry of soul she sailed on a dais

Over the sea to Skye
Cat x


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